


The Heartbeat Monitor

by vexed_fan



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: A little bit of Mystrade, Fluff, M/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Being a Good Brother, Sherlock Wearing A Sheet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6871903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexed_fan/pseuds/vexed_fan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick visit from Sherlock's Mind Palace made him question John's love for him.</p><p>Simply because of the stupid letter he sent to Mycroft ages ago.</p><p>Stupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heartbeat Monitor

John was sitting on the sofa, sipping his morning tea in silence whilst his newly found lover, Sherlock Holmes, sat his head on his partner’s lap, occupying the whole rest of the sofa. The detective was wearing nothing but the bed sheets, attempting to cover most of his exposed flesh, but he wouldn’t care anyway as they are the only ones present inside the flat. With eyes closed, his fingers extended gracefully on a display of his signature prayer position, resting under his chin. He was visiting his mind palace. 

John just finished his tea and set them on the table, avoiding to make a sound that would drag his partner from his thoughts. He rested the back of his head against the sofa and took somewhat a short nap. 

(In his Mind Palace)

The consulting detective was arranging some files and data in his mind palace. Throwing away some useless information that he, himself wouldn’t even use in his exciting cases. Something that would just definitely fill his palace rubbish instead of something useful. 

He went into this room he hadn’t visited for ‘Weeks, months or years? Years.’ He cocked an eyebrow. The sociopath grabbed the closest file beside him, enclosed with a folder, opened it- and there revealed a paper. Some snippets of text were encircled with red ink, implying that it is important. Curiosity ate him up. It read as follows in his own chaotic handwriting and in a detailed manner:

 

Mycroft,

Damn it! Why would I even care anyway? I don’t even know why I am helping you, Mike. Christopher is just using your influence. Please do note that what I am telling you is actually real, though there is no scientific reason on what is behind with this kind of poisonous ‘phenomenon’. 

Take these things seriously:  
\- Heart rate monitor  
\- Three whole minutes of staring and of course,  
\- observe the time.

Now, brother dear, look on your heart rates. If they (somehow; almost) synchronize, I must say, you have now found someone who actually cares about you. 

P.S. Based on my observations of your relationship, I conclude that the feeling you both share isn’t actually mutual. As what I have said earlier, he is just using your influence. What do they call it? One- sided love? Perfectly describes you, brother dear.

I am just saving your precious time so that the ever-so-normal British Government will help more normal individuals. 

Your lovely brother,  
Sherlock Holmes

After skimming his letter he sent to a once young elder Holmes, he smirked at his own humour. He would keep this, and no, not sentiment. He loved imagining his brother suffering from his taunts. And oh, how he loved when Mycroft was slightly heartbroken about the ‘truth’. That guy never really loved him anyway, and his brother was just infatuated with that power-hungry guy. 

The curly haired man put the file back in its place and hurried out the door, finally leaving his own mind palace. 

/////

Sherlock shot up quickly to his lover. “John? John!” He shook his blogger’s shoulders and arms violently, waking him up from his short nap. John’s eyes looked at Sherlock, his image a tad blurry, adjusting from the light shining on his lover’s face.

“What do you need, Sherlock?!” John raised his voice in irritation. He dreamt something strange, yet dangerous. The dream was on its own climax and his significant other ruined it. 

“Er, let us play the staring contest.” Sherlock jumped from his feet and landed on the floor. Excitement visible on his face. ‘His attitude is a bit strange today’ John skeptically thought and reluctantly accepted the challenge.

John fixed his position and leant the side of his body to the sofa. Resting the side of his head with his hands. Sherlock went to the kitchen cupboards and retrieved back two pairs of heart rate monitor watch with its chest strap. He felt John gazing at him as he searched for the equipment. 

“Where did you get that? And why do we need it?” The blonde haired man asked in utter confusion.

“Stole it from Mycroft’s. Strange because it is two." The detective smiled at him, earning a squint from the doctor. “Yes, perspiration, don’t worry love, I cleaned it.” Sherlock sat, imitating John so that they would both face each other. 

“You haven’t answered my other question.” John said as Sherlock uncovered the sheet down until it exposed his bare chest, and put the chest strap on.

“Do you love me, John Hamish Watson?” He said as John popped the buttons open from his red shirt.

Halfway loosening the buttons, John pulled in his lover a kiss on his forehead. “What do you think?” And smiled at him, he then proceeded to do the rest and took off the shirt, put the strap on his chest and wore the watch. 

“We will stare for the whole three minutes. No distractions,” Sherlock paused for a moment. “no movements nor even a flinch, and no speaking.” His face turned serious when he timed his phone exactly three minutes. “3…2… and 1. Begin.” 

They both looked at each other, straightening both their postures not breaking eye contact. They sat across half a metre. John watched the change of colour in Sherlock’s eyes as it passed through the soft ray of sunlight, making it look bright green, with somewhat a speck of gold. 

“Beautiful.” John let the word slip out of his mouth, forgetting the aforementioned rules. He leant closer to Sherlock. This caused the detective to hiss at the man in front of him. “Oh. Yes, er, sorry.” John coughed lightly. Sherlock looked down at his phone- 2m 44s left. 

“We both lost.” The doctor smiled cheekily at him.

“Yes, technically no, you broke the rule first.” He looked back at John adoring his smile.

“We still both lost.” He reasoned out.

“Shh… Don’t be irrational.” He pulled the wrist of John and placed it beside his, still not breaking the contact. 

A minute left and the detective took a glance on both the heartbeat line through the clock faces. The tedious green coloured lines ascending and descending, creating a sharp edge when it comes to its peak, also momentarily creating flat lines…

Alive and almost identical, he smiled to himself.

He looked at his phone again 17s left. He wouldn’t waste seventeen seconds of his life just for this. Why did he even start this anyway? 

Stupid. He mentally scolded himself.

Sherlock removed the strap from his chest, sighing as the tight sensation was released. He also removed the stupid watch that left a nearly noticeable mark on his wrists. John broke out of his own trance when he heard Sherlock mumbling to himself the words: “Stupid sentiment.” The doctor copied the detective and when finished he said, “Hey. Cheer up.” He wrapped his warm hands around Sherlock’s body. Both sharing and radiating their body heat. The blogger leant closer to him, resting his head on the detective’s sharp shoulders and took a deep breath, taking note of his new lover’s scent. His lover ended up in just a sigh.

“Why do we have to do that?” John asked him in a soft voice, his hands playing now with his satin coloured curls. 

“I just wanted to know if you actually love me.” The detective’s hand found itself hugging his man tighter. 

“And… why is that necessary?” 

“I simply do not know. I went into this room and there sat a file I have left years ago.” John knew that he was talking about his mind palace. “I sent my brother a letter about this- this thing. It is supposed to be some type of an experiment or a test to know if you, or we, actually have this ‘love thing’ going on between us. If the feeling is mutual, both the heartbeat line would synchronize, and that’s it. Also, there is no reason why... love is such a never- ending mystery.”

“Do you trust me?” The doctor let his lips touch Sherlock’s sensitive neck and this earned a sudden subtle gasp and wince from him.

“Don’t be absurd! Of course, I do. I came across with that stupid article in a normal, boring, school library. I was curious, as always. I just wanted to tease my brother with his first lover, whom he was somewhat crazily infatuated at.” Sherlock shrugged. “And yes, unfortunately, my brother gave up on containing himself, became together, entered in some serious and compromising deeds, and the advice I gave proved the exploitation of Christopher on his power. Suits him well, I would not forget his dramatic heartbroken face.” He let out a low chuckle. John joined him too.

“How about Greg? They’re together now, for like, about a month now.” John broke away from Sherlock causing his eyebrows to meet in disagreement. The doctor arranged the teacup that was left on the table, also getting the ridiculous two pairs of bloody useless monitors putting it back again in the kitchen cupboard. 

“Greg? Who the hell is Greg?” Sherlock scoffed, lying now on the sofa, the sheets covering most of his body.

“Lestrade.” 

“What?! How did I not know this?” He stood up and approached John begrudgingly, the stomp of his feet making sounds below the floor downstairs. 

“They talked to me about this a week ago, when you were in your case. Expertly kept this as a secret to you, and I just told you the truth.” The blonde man’s voice was far too casual.

“I need to talk to G- G-, nevermind, Lestrade. He is in love with the devil! His life is way too important to waste it on my brother.” He spat out the word “brother” with hatred. He fixed his sheet, making sure some parts are left unexposed to the eyes of the public, specifically for the nosy media and what do they call themselves? Fangirls from his so- called fan club? 

“You’re- you’re just wearing that?” John pointed at the thin fabric. He hurried to wear his red shirt, didn’t even bothered to get a coat.

“Yes.” Sherlock bolted out of their flat. “Come on John! We need to save an individual!” John frowned in frustration as his Sherlock hailed a cab.

The expected exchange of sibling rivalry bought a smirk on John's lips. 

He wouldn't miss it for the world.


End file.
